I directed my gaze down at the floor, my hand still resting on the doorknob. “I never would’ve denied my children. Ever. And the fact that you believed I would says everything I need to know about what you thought of me.” My voice dripped in an icy coldness that chilled the entire room. I gave Patience one last look. The frozen block in the center of my chest lurched against my ribcage at the expression of hurt that passed over her face. I turned, opening the door and shutting it behind me, moving down the hall to the stairs to get to the den that I used as a home office.
****
By the time I reached the den, my chest was heaving with anger, resentment, and a deep sadness I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in nearly six years. I flicked on the light and went to my large desk, plopping down in the leather chair. My gaze was pulled to the large sofa that was long enough for me to sleep on. I knew because I’d spent plenty of nights sleeping in this very room, even before Patience and the children moved in. Rising, I walked over to the opposite side of the room to the small refrigerator I kept in here, pulling out a bottle of water. I went to the window, opening the bottle and staring at the night sky.
“I told you she would be your wife someday.”
My lips pursed, the bottle stopped just inches from my lips. I remained silent and continued drinking, choosing to ignore the female voice in the background.
“You’re going to sleep down here while your wife and children are two floors up?”
I grunted, still gazing out the window. “You’re not real.”
The voice sighed. “You’ve been trying to play that game since you were eight years old. I’m very real and you know it.”
“Ghosts aren’t real,” I persisted.
“We’ve been through this. I’m not a ghost. I’m a spirit.”
I angrily turned from the window, to see the woman standing in the middle of my office. She wore a long white nightgown, same as always. Her dark brown hair hung around her shoulders.
“You’re not real,” I stated it again, more trying to convince myself.
“We both know the truth, Aaron. And despite what your real daddy tried to drill into that thick head of yours, you know I’m real.”
“Stop it!”
“You know it. The children around you see it. You have a gift and you choose to ignore it, making your life more difficult.”
I gave the woman, Emma, a deadpan expression. “My life would be a hell of a lot more difficult if I went around declaring to the world that I saw ghosts or spirits, whatever the fuck the difference is.”
“You don’t see spirits. You just see me.Yourrealgift is in your keen intuition. The insight you’ve been blessed with that no one else can see. It’s what makes you so great at your job. It’s a gift passed down from generation to generation on your mother’s side of the family.”
I snorted. “My mother, right.”
“It’s true. You have greatness on both sides of your family. The Townsends and your mother. There were a number of important businessmen, entrepreneurs, and politicians. It’s why your father chose her to marry.”
I gave her an incredulous look. “If she was so blessed with such keen insight, why the hell would she choose to marryhimof all people?”
“She failed to listen to caution. Much like her son.”
I peered at Emma through narrowed eyes.
She shrugged. “It’s your distrust of others that gets in your way.”
I rolled my eyes, grunting. “Great. I get thespiritthat loves to psychoanalyze me.”
She had the audacity to laugh. “I’m only calling it like I see it. Just like I told you nearly six years ago that Patience Thiers was going to be your wife. And now look where we are.”
I flexed my jaw again, remaining silent, but turning once more to stare out of the window, remembering that time six years ago, when Emma had indeed informed me that Patience was my destiny.
****
Then …
“You’re dining with Thiers tonight?”
“Yes, Father,” I responded into my cell, as I exited the door the driver held open.
